The Gun Slinger
by Strider4me
Summary: Little Joe Cartwright was taken from the Ponderosa at the age of 16. Now three years later he has managed to find his way home again. But he no longer is the innocent boy that he used to be. A terrible dark secret haunts his past. An update has been posted!
1. Default Chapter

Summary: Little Joe Cartwright was taken from the Ponderosa at the age of 16. Now three years later he has managed to find his way home again. But he no longer is the innocent boy that he used to be.

Disclaimer: As much as I wish I was the brilliant mind to think up the 1960's TV show Bonanza. I wasn't even alive. So it's sad to say that the characters of the Cartwright's, the Coffees and several others aren't mine. I'm just borrowing them for this fanfic.

Feedback: Whatever feed back that you can give me would be great! Just please do not flame me. Constructive criticism is welcome!

The Gun Slinger

Chapter 1

A slim, dark figure limped along the dim alleyways behind the buildings of Carson City. He paused at the Silver Musket and darted a glance around the corner. The coast seemed clear, and he hurried across the street only to stop abruptly when one of the saloon girls stepped out of the swinging doors and stifled a scream at his appearance. He wore all black. His hat was pulled low to shadow his face. Two Colt .44's rode on his hips and a bandolier crossed his chest. In his left hand he carried a rifle. The mines and mills worked round-the-clock, and there were always people in the streets of Caron City. Several glanced his way, then diverted their eyes and stepped a little faster. As he reached the Sheriff's office, he pulled his hat lower and studied the ground as he hurried past.

Near the busy, raucous Tombstone he spotted his prey. Luck was with him tonight. Light from the saloon illuminated the dusty trail clothes and hard, unshaven face of the drifter who lounged against the hitching rack with one scuffed boot hiked up on the boardwalk. One of the big .44's slid from its sleek, unornamented gunfighter's rig, and aim was instantaneous and accurate. A single shot shattered the night, and the drifter crumpled. The dark figure ducked back into the labyrinth of alleyways and raced to the burned out building where he had left his horse cinched tight and loose tied. Nine down; one more to go.

Trouble was no stranger in the roaring mining town, and Sheriff Baker and his deputies were alert and watchful. A man shot dead in the middle of the street and a dark figure flying at a hard run added up pretty fast in their minds. A hail of bullets followed him out of town. He felt a sharp tug at his ankle and then a blow to his thigh that felt like being hit with a crowbar. A final shot burst flesh and muscle apart in his shoulder, and he slumped in the saddle but clung to the horn with his good hand. The tough pinto he rode felt the shift of his rider's weight and the loss of guidance. He slowed, and then memory stirred. It had been a while, but the road was familiar; food and water and a warm stall were within reach. He fell into a ground-eating lope.

Six hours later the pinto's nostrils flared, and his ears pricked. He hadn't been here in a long time, but all the old, familiar scents and sounds returned in a rush. He reared and called to his well-known stable mates, uncaring that his rider tumbled from the saddle and fell limp and motionless to the ground.

It was growing late, and Adam Cartwright sat at his father's desk, forcing his weary brain to sort through the fine print and details of the contracts before him. His father tired earlier now and had gone up to bed an hour before. Hoss was away on a business trip to San Francisco. Loneliness, a sense of something always missing, nagged at him as it so often did now. A thud of hoof beats and a shrill whinny broke his concentration. He stood, cat-footed to the door and slid his gun from its holster. Opening the door with caution, he looked out into the night. The bunkhouse was dark, but the porch lamp showed him a huddled figure on the ground near the barn and a familiar pinto pony drinking greedily at the water trough. Fear and hope closed his throat and sent his heart racing as he sprinted across the yard to the downed man. He knelt and turned the slender figure over to find he held his youngest brother in his arms. He pressed two fingers at the jaw notch and felt for a pulse. It was there: weak but still beating. Unbidden tears welled up in his eyes; he hadn't seen Little Joe for almost three years, not since he had disappeared while the elder Cartwright's were gone on a cattle drive.

Earl Simmons, always a light sleeper, stepped out of the bunkhouse door and called softly, "Mr. Cartwright?"

"Earl, my good man!" Adam said. "Pull that horse out of the trough before he founders and take special care of him. I'll explain later."

He gathered his brother in his arms with tender care and made for the house, shouting for his father.

Upstairs Ben awoke to the resounding call of his eldest' deep baritone. He pulled on his robe and raced down the stairs just in time to see Adam lower a man onto the settee.

Half awake, his voice was puzzled. "Adam, who is that?"

"Pa, its Joe." Adam had tears in his eyes, and his voice cracked. "It's Little Joe."

Walking as fast as his legs could carry him, Ben made is way over to the settee, sure enough just as Adam had told him, he saw the face that he had longed and feared he'd never see again. Tears rose to his eyes, and silently spilled down his face. His little Joe was home; at long last his little Joe was home. Taking another look at his youngest as Adam pulled his black hat off his head, removing the shadow from his face that had come to lie there. Ben bent down, he found himself appalled at Joe's appearance, the boy that he had been three years back, was gone and had been replaced by a hard, cold young man, the kind that would just as soon kill you than look at you. His hair was long and dusty, a fine goatee dotted across his chin leaving him "hard as nails". Joe had lost a lot of weight and had several bruises across his face. He wore all black much like his brother Adam. Ben smiled briefly deep in thought, Joe always want to dress just like Adam when he was a little boy. But the long dusty cowboy duster that he wore was nothing like anything that Adam would ever wear.

Opening the duster, both Adam and Ben were shocked to see; two colt .44s hanging on his hips and a bandolier across his chest. Catching a breath in his throat Ben looked at Adam, who shared the same look of shock across his face. Ben turned back to Joe just as a moan escaped from his lips. "Shhh Joe pa's here it's alright now, you're safe now." Turning to Adam Ben bent down and pulled Joe up into his arms and headed for the stairs. "Let's get him to bed Adam." Adam nodded at his father and turned into the kitchen returning a moment later with a bowl of hot water and some bandages.

Joe's room was still just as he had left it, nothing had been added nor had any thing been removed in all the years that he was missing. Laying Joe down on the bed, Ben and Adam got to work getting him undressed and cleaned up. Pulling off his duster they found blood slowly oozing from a shoulder wound and a thigh wound. Carefully Adam unbuttoned Joe's shirt and pulled the material away from the bullet wound, taking a bandage Ben applied pressure while he waited for Adam to do the same with the thigh wound both knowing that they had to stop the bleeding or they could lose Joe again, after they barely just got him back.

"We've got to get a doctor out here to look at him, he's bad off."

Adam nodded and stood heading for the door to go and wake a ranch hand to head to town for the doctor, however before he was even out the door, Joe's eyes flew open as a shot of pain wracked through his body, after only a moment he jumped out of their arms and reached for his guns, only to find them missing. Turning he tried to race out of the room but Adam grabbed him from behind. Joe twisted and turned trying to get away from the grasping hands that held him back. Surprised by the muscle that fought against him, Adam started to lose his hold on his little brother. During the three years away a muscular man of ninteen had replaced the skinny young boy of sixteen that had been taken from them.  
Ben stood and headed toward Adam and just as Joe finally managed to break free from his captor. Grabbing Joe by the arms Ben looked into the face of his young son, calling his name, but as Joe continued to fight against his father Ben pulled back a hand and slapped his son across the face, surprising both himself and Adam. Joe reared and pulled away from his father punching him hard in the gut as he did so, turning he raced out into the hall towards the stairs. Adam raced after him afraid if he got away that he would lose him already so soon, Jumping at Joe he tackled him to the floor, Joe continued to fight, until he felt himself being lifted off the ground by the back of his neck, bucking Joe felt a sharp slap hit his face once again. In that instant the fight was gone from Joe and he slumped against his father. Bringing his hand up to the chin of his young son, Ben lifted his face so that for the first time in three years, Ben and Joe's eyes locked. As that happened the fire in Joe's eyes melted away a soft moan escaped his lips again. "Pa?" "It's alright son, I'm here your fight is over just rest." Joe looked into his father's eyes for just a moment, as his eyes rolled back into his head and he collapsed to the floor.

Hours had come and gone, when finally Paul emerged from Joe's room, as he walked down the stairs he was met with four pairs of eyes anxious to hear just how the youngest member of the Cartwright clan was doing. His face was unreadable, sitting down he took a cup of coffee that was handed to him by Hop Sing. Paul looked into the eyes of Roy, Ben, Adam, and Hop Sing before he started, " Ben I'm not going to lie to you, Joe's in a bad way, the boy is malnourished and suffering from several infections all over his body, he looks as though he has taken several beatings through out the years and has never allowed them to heal in any way. He's exhausted, and those bullet wounds aren't going to help him any either. The wounds at least were all clean and shouldn't bother him to much." Paul paused and took another sip of coffee before he turned to Hop Sing "He's going to need plenty of broth for the next several days." Hop Sing nodded and turned back into the kitchen with his pony tail bobbing after him as he went to do the doctors bidding. Turning back to the others Paul motioned to Adam, "Why don't you go sit with him, so he's not alone any longer." Adam nodded and headed up the stairs, as he went he could hear his father and the sheriff and Paul talking about what legal matters they were going to have to get through to insure that Joe wasn't taking from them again. His appearance was enough to let them know the life that Joe had been living for the past three years.

Adam wished slightly that he could have been include in the discussion but was happy that he could spend some time with his brother. Pulling a chair up to the side of Joe's bed Adam sat down, taking his brother's left hand in his own, Adam gave him a small squeeze. "It's over Joe, your families here for you now; you don't have to by yourself anymore." Joe moved on the bed, as he tried to find a more comfortable position. Reaching forward Adam softly stroked Joe's back until he settled deeper into sleep.

Sun streamed into his room the next morning waking Joe from a tense slumber. Opening one eye he looked around the room, so many things looked familiar. But fear and stubbornness made him refuse to believe that it was all true and not just one of the all too familiar nightmares that haunted the past three years. Pulling back the blanket he found that he had been bandaged and changed anger and confusion filled his mind. Who would help him and why would they do such a thing? He was a dangerous gunslinger; a wanted man, maybe who ever it was didn't know who he was. Stepping onto the floor, Joe moved slowly to the window, glancing outside he was struck by a warm feeling of comfort and safety, drawing back, Joe pushed the feeling aside, he had to stay alert. Joe moved to the chair beside the bed that held his clothes checking them over he found that everything was there except his bandolier and guns. Taking a deep breath Joe realized that if he wanted to get away he was going to have to wait for the correct time when he could take his captors by surprise.

Suddenly there was movement outside in the hall, Joe jumped back into bed and rolled away just as the door opened. A soft paddling sound came across the floor, shutting his eyes Joe waited. A hand reached out and touched his hot forehead, followed quickly by a soft cool cloth. Joe could feel the blanket being removed from him; a twitch of fear ran up his spine. Soon he felt the same careful hands pull his nightshirt off, shaking slightly he felt the man pull the blankets up to his waist. The bullet wound in his shoulder was carefully washed and re bandaged tightly. Next he felt the same procedure for the thigh wound and the ankle wound. A new nightshirt was slid over his head and the now warm cloth was replaced with a soft cool one. The warm blanket was then pulled back up to his shoulders and tucked in around him. As Hop Sing cleaned and bandaged Joe he could sense that the boy was faking sleep. Understanding his need, Hop Sing decided to let him be. After cleaning him up Hop Sing patted him on the head softly "you rest now, I brin you som good food later" Soon the same soft paddling was heard and the door closed.

Joe breathed a sigh of relief as he was once again left alone. Pushing back the blankets Joe tried to stand, cursing softly he fell back onto the pillows as the dizziness reached his head. Taking deep breaths Joe tried to push the feeling from his now aching head before the blackness came for him again. When Joe opened his eyes again, he was surprised to find it dark outside it had only seemed like a few minuets. Carefully turning his head to the right his eyes where met with the sight of a black haired man sleeping peacefully in the chair next to his bed. Arching his back up a little more he looked closer at the man.

Sensing eyes on his Adam opened his eyes and smiled at his little brother. Slowly as to not frighten Joe, Adam reached a hand out to push a wayward curl off of his little brother's forehead. His smile faded a little bit as his little brother flinched as the hand came near him, but grew again as the boy allowed him to do so. "Adam?" Joe whispered in disbelief. Nodding slowly Adam kept his hand where it was and carefully stood sitting down on Joe's bed he gently pulled the boys head to his chest. Joe allowed Adam to cradle his head to his chest for a few minuets before he pulled away. He couldn't explain it but he was mad at his brother, though he wasn't quiet sure why. Adam was a little disappointed when his brother pulled away from him but allowed him to do so just the same. Standing he carefully lowered Joe's head to his pillows again, and took a cloth off the side of the basin on the table next to the bed and washed the sweat that had come to gather on Joe's forehead. Squeezing Joe's shoulder Adam asked, "Are you hungry little buddy?" Nodding slightly Joe rolled over and buried his face into his pillows. Adam glanced over his shoulder as he was leaving and noticed a slight quiver in Joe's shoulders signaling that his baby brother was crying. Swallowing hard Adam left the room so as not to embarrass his brother by turning back and pulling the boy into his lap.

That night after his brother had helped him eat. Tucked him in and left the room, Joe opened his eyes and stared at the ceiling. His mind was in terminal, thinking about the last man that he hunted, Liam Waitsfield. The man that was responsible for the end of the life that he knew growing up and the hurting that lingered in his soul for the past three years. Swallowing hard Joe thought back to the tip that he had been given about a week ago when he was on the trail of the drifter that he had shot down the other day in Carson. Waitsfield was in Yerington Nevada, running the lucky stiff mine. Breathing out a sigh, Joe closed his eyes to go to sleep, but the voices filtering through the crack in his door prevented him from doing so. Carefully Joe stood and headed out into the hall. Creeping quietly down the hall Joe stopped at the corner just above the main room. Below sat Ben and Adam deep in discussion with Roy Coffee,

"Ben, I don't want to arrest him, God you know how much the boy means to me, but the fact is that he killed a man the other night in Carson City, and his gang is wanted for the murders of several other men across the country." Roy argued with Ben. " Roy I just got him back I can't lose him again, damn it Roy, he was just a boy when he was stolen from me all those years ago. He can't help what kind of life he might have been forced to live while away from me. Isn't there something that we could maybe do?" Ben pleaded back.

"Ben I wish that there was something that I could do but with all the evidence that is stacked up against him there isn't anything that I can do, when he's better I'm going to have to take him back with me. I'm sorry Ben." Roy answered shaking his head. " Roy what if he had to do it, what if there is some kind of meaning behind the killings could that help him?" Adam cut in. Feeling sick, Joe turned and headed back down the hall, he knew that he wasn't going to be able to stay with his family forever, but it was nice while it lasted. It was time to start planning his escape. Knowing that he would need to be ready to take off in the next couple of days Joe climbed back into bed and willed sleep to take him.

Three days later,

Joe sat up in his bed as the door opened and Ben and Adam walked in followed by Sheriff Roy Coffee. Ben noticed that Joe's smile faded and the fire that hadn't been present for several days returned to his eyes as Roy walked into the room. Taking a seat on the side of his son's bed he reached over and smoothed Joe's hair out of his eyes. Adam walked around his father and sat down on the opposite side of the bed and patted Joe's should, ready to comfort if he was needed. Roy took a seat in the chair that sat at the end of the bed. Swallowing hard Ben turned to his son. "Joe I know that this is going to be hard for you but we need you to tell us where you've been all this time. And exactly what happened to you." Allowing the fire to dim a little Joe nodded before squeezing his eyes shut and taking a deep breath. Joe knew that even though he couldn't stay with his family much longer that he needed to make known what had happened to him and many others just like him all those years ago. He had promised that much to the group of boys that he had come to know as brothers. Taking a deep breath he began his tale.

TBC


	2. Chapter 2

Title: The Gun Slinger

Author: Strider4me

Disclaimer: Nope don't own them folks. Just barrowing them

Warnings: A little dark in places…tiny bit gross and don't forget this story is AU.

Rating: hmmm I'd say T

Feedback: Yes Please

Archive: Nope….must ask before use.

**XXXX**Joe speaking in the present time, to Roy Coffee. Might be a little confusing….basically any time story is in first person that is happening. (Re-calling certain emotions/feelings/thoughts)**XXXX**

Chapter 2 How it started.

**XXXX**

Joe looked around the room, his eyes settling on his father first, then his brother Adam, and finally Roy Coffee.

"My story as I'm sure you know isn't a happy one…it isn't something I'm proud of, but for the past three years it has become a way of life…a way of existence…the only way I survived. As I look back on it now… I can't even tell you how it came to be, only that my father and brothers left on a cattle drive and that that same morning, 2 years, 12 months, and 30 days ago while I was on my way to school I was attacked by two men…and the next thing I knew I was shackled, and being forced towards a mine…."

**XXXX**

The wagon pulled to a complete stop, rough hands reached into the back grabbing Joe from where he'd been lying for the past several hours. Depositing him roughly on the ground. Before Joe was even able to think about what was happening to him, a cold metal collar attached to a chain was fixed around his neck, seconds before the chain was yanked on, forcing him to his feet. Like a dog he was led towards the entrance of a mine that cut into the side of the mountain. A shadow of a man fell across him as they headed under a gate, looking up Joe was horrified to find a man almost twice the size of his brother Hoss. Swallowing down his fear, and allowing his anger at being kidnapped to surface, Joe looked the man straight in the eye. Suddenly his feet where kicked out from under him and Joe found himself forced to kneel before the giant man. Struggling to stand Joe refused to be treated as a slave nor was he about to except having to bow down to this sort of a person. One of his captures smacked him smartly across the back of his head and placed a heavy hand on his shoulder forcing him to stay down.

"Mr. Waitsfield… here's your new replacement."

The giant man, Waitsfield looked down at Joe a small smile across his face.

"He has spunk…I'll enjoy watching him be broken, tell me Brown where did you find such a fine specimen?"

" Virginia City… "

"Hmmm" Reaching into his pocket, Waitsfield pulled out and envelope and handed it to Brown…

"Here is half…you and Walker get the other when you bring me one more brat."

"We'll get you someone else by the end of the week, Sir."

"I'll hold you to that, now get out of here before I decide to take the work load of that particular missing brat out on your hide. You're lucky I paid you at all…my order was for two…not just one scrawny kid that isn't more than twelve. "

Brown released his hold on Joe, before he and Walker headed back towards their wagon.

Waitsfield took the chain attached to Joe's collar in hand.

"What's your name boy?"

Setting his jaw firmly Joe remained silent he'd be damned that he was about to tell this man anything. The punch came out of nowhere, sending Joe reeling across the dusty ground.

"I said what's your name boy?"

Struggling to clear his mind from the fog that swarmed his head, Joe didn't answer, this time earning himself, a kick to the gut.

"I'm only going to ask you one more time…what's your name?"

Not wanting anymore pain, Joe answered, "Joe."'

"Joe what?"

"Joe Cartwright"

"You'll address me at all times as Sir, slave do you understand me?"

"Yes."

Another kick to the gut left Joe gasping for air.

"Yes what slave…"

"Yes sir."

"Good, now…Joe…from this point on your name means nothing…you are no more than a worthless piece of shit I'd scrape off of my boot. I don't give two cents about whom you used to be, from now on you're my slave…until you die or I no longer need you. You'll behave; I won't have you giving my men any problems if you do you'll be severely punished. Do you understand?"

Struggling to his feet Joe sent his most defiant look towards Waitsfield.

"You'll never take my name away from me… I will always be Joe Cartwright nothing you can do will ever change that. My family will find me…and when they do it will be you who is severely punished."

"That's where you're wrong boy…"

Waitsfield motioned behind Joe, and before Joe knew what was happening ropes were being tied around his wrists, and he was being hoisted up off the ground until he dangled from his arms off the top beam of the gate. His shirt was ripped from his body. The collar and chain removed. Waitsfield came around front of him, a horsewhip in his hands.

"This slave I can tell is going to be the first of many lessons for you. Your punishment for insolent behavior ten lashes."

The first contact of the whip with Joe's bareback left him breathless…it burned more than he could have ever imagined. By about the third Joe could feel blood pouring down his back, by the forth he could no longer hold back his screams, and by the seventh his young body could take no more and mercifully had passed out cold. When Waitsfield finished dishing out Joe's punishment a bucket of ice water was thrown over the youngest Cartwright and he was left hanging from the beam.

As night quickly approached, Joe finally woke… his wrists burned from his body weight hanging off them, the ropes cutting into his flesh. His back was a whole other matter, never in his young life had he felt pain like this, it ate away at his resolve, it consumed him. And before he could stop himself tears were pouring down his cheeks. Soon the pain once more became more than his beaten body could handle and the merciful hand of blackness came for him again.

When next he woke, Joe found himself lying on the hard ground several other people huddled around him. The metal collar was once more fixed around his neck. Somebody with gentle hands was carefully washing his back.

"Ouch." He crocked in pain.

"Be still…It's alright…Shit he really did a number on your back…yet the way you where mouthing off to him it's not all that surprising. You're going to have to watch out for him…he's got it in for you now…" A gentle voice soothed.

"Probably wasn't too smart on my part."

"Nope it wasn't Waitsfield's a real bastard."

"He wasn't taking my name from me…I don't care how tough he is."

"He was right you've got spunk alright… so what's the name you've got that's so important to you?"

"Joe Cartwright." Joe answered holding out his hand

"Peter…. Peter Taylor…. yeah I think we can be friends Joe Cartwright. You stick with me I'll show you the ropes to this place."

Joe by now had struggled to sit up, even managed to get what was left of his shirt back around his shoulders. Taking a look around, Joe was shocked to find ten other boys all crammed into what appeared to be a cell each with a collar around his neck.

"Where are we?"

"We're at the Bar Q, a ranch sixty miles outside Yerington Nevada. Waitsfield is the foreman here. A high and mighty out of New Orleans owns the ranch and doesn't come here but once every year. The poor sucker probably isn't even aware that there is silver on his property. Nor that Waitsfield has kidnapped several boys and is using us as slaves to dig up the stuff for him. Mr. Victor Byers bought this horse ranch for his wife, and then when she passed on he moved the hell out of here. Probably would have sold the damn ranch, had Waitsfield not talked him into keeping it…for the children. The Children my ass, Liam Waitsfield just wants the silver."

"Wait if he comes once a year how come he hasn't found out about this mine? Or all of you?"

"The mine is boarded up every time he comes and all of us are caged inside down on the lower level. Waitsfield told him that a strike was found but it quickly dried up and now the mine is just kept boarded up. He doesn't ask too many questions."

**XXXX**

"Peter and I became fast friends he showed me the ropes and looked out for me, even though he was a year older. Thanks to him I stayed out of Liam Waitsfield's way never giving him another reason to take a shot at me. The other ten boys excepted me into their chain gang at first only because of Peter, since each and every one of them knew I was trouble…because of what had happened between myself and Waitsfield… none of them were ready to take me in…risking the wrath of Waitsfield upon themselves, Peter however was…he was ready to take a chance. He somehow knew I was the answer they had been looking for. I still to this day don't know why he felt that way…but maybe one day I'll figure it out."

**XXXX**

"Alright Joe Cartwright let me introduce you around… First over there in the corner that's Seth." Peter pointed to a sandy haired youth "He's 14, has been here for the past four years, next to him is George, he's Seth's brother he's 13 and again has been here for four years." George too was a sandy haired boy. "Okay next comes Juan he's from Mexico he really doesn't speak that much English but he's learning… he's 10 has been here since Waitsfield bought him off a slave trader six years ago. Then we've got Alex, Eric, and Pete, their all brothers Alex and Eric are both 15 and Pete he's 13 they've been here a little over a year." All three where red headed boys, " So then…." Pointing to another young looking boy…" That's Michael; he too is only 10 he's been here six months, then just behind Michael is Charlie… he's 17 and is my twin brother he and I have been here three years, over in that corner is John Walter he's 14, has been here a little under a month. And that over there is" Peter pointed to a snide looking young man. "Francis he's 16 and has only been here for ten days… he's from some rich family who live in San Francisco I doubt before ten days ago he's seen a hard day's work. But he's coming along nicely."

As Peter introduced each boy, Joe nodded respectfully in each of his directions.

"And you Joe…how old are you?"

"Sixteen."

"Hmmm I would have guessed younger…"

"I get that all the time."

"Yeah well around here it's a good thing…your ten lashes this afternoon would have been more if Waitsfield thought you where older… so play your young looks up…the guards will take it easier on you too. Yeah well anyways…it's getting late…we should all try to get some sleep… tomorrow is going to be hard especially with your back how it is, you just make sure that tomorrow in line up you get next to me…or Charlie…okay?"

"Yeah sure…but don't you worry I too am from a ranch…I know a hard days work…"

"Yeah that's good… now get some sleep…I'll see you in the morning."

**XXXX**

"It took me the better part of a month to earn the trust of the rest of my chain gang but in that time we all became really good friends…even Francis whom no one seemed to like in the beginning ended up a hard worker once he got his bearings."

**XXXX**

Morning came quicker than any of the boys would have liked. The cell doors where opened and as requested Joe got into line between Peter and Charlie. Once the guards had fed the chains through all of the collars, the boys where marched to the feeding station where each of them was given a bowl of oatmeal.

"Eat it quick Joe…even though it tastes horrible you won't get anything else till noon…and they only give use about two minutes for breakfast." Charlie quickly said between bites when he noticed Joe wasn't eating.

Sighing Joe plugged his nose and drank it all down gagging only slightly at the foul taste. Even Hoss's cooking tasted better than this foul crap. Tears rose in his eyes at the thought of Hoss but stubbornly refusing to allow the gang and the guards to see his tears, Joe swallowed them back as quickly as they came.

As promised the guards allowed the boys exactly two minutes before roughly yanking on the lead chain pulling them to their feet. Joe stumbled a bit not yet used to this treatment and would have fallen had Charlie not caught him, steadying him on his feet. They where then marched towards the mine, as they neared the entrance the guards handed each boy a mining pick. Pick in hand Joe entered the mine following Peter, with Charlie right at his heels, a icy hand clutched is heart at the darkness, yet unable to do anything about his childhood fear, Joe was forced to will it away or become consumed by it. When they finally reached the lowest level the guard attached one end of the chain to a metal loop mounted on a peace of shoring, taking a step back.

"Get to work ya brats. Fifteen barrels full or no supper." He ordered, before taking his leave.

Joe watched him go; once he was sure he was out of earshot he turned to Peter.

"Where is he going? He doesn't even stay to make sure we're working?"

"He's going to get the other gang off their over night shift, don't think you can slack off just cause he's not there watching, he'll be back when you least expect it and there'll be hell to pay if you're found sitting wasting time. Francis can tell you that, his back still isn't healed from that punishment and it's been nine days. You got ten he got twenty lashes plus no meal."

"Wait what other gang?"

"The other gang, it's got some of our brothers in it. They work nights and sleep days; you'll see them tonight as we're lead out they'll be being lead in. Come two month from next Friday you'll be getting to meet them, as it's our yearly lock down as Byers is coming. Anyways, you'll learn the ropes and how things work around here quickly if you expect to survive, we best be getting back to work Joe Cartwright."

The guard came back a while later, and even stood there watching for a while before Joe even noticed. But it didn't matter as, as the hours passed the barrels filled, after only about four hours they had filled eighteen barrels three more than the guard had requested. The work was hard, harder than any Joe had known in his short life, but he was going to be damned if he didn't show how strong he was, his back injured or not, he was a Cartwright and he'd live up to his name or die trying.

**XXXX**

"By the time supper break was called, my hands were bleeding as well as my back. My back burned as though it had been poked with a hot poker with each movement I made; yet I worked through my pain, as I am no weakling. Breaking a herd of wild horses hurt less than the five hours of work that first morning. I knew then and there that I wasn't going to become one of the boys who sat in that hellhole working for years to come. Though I had no doubt that I would be found, I knew it would be extremely hard for any search party to find me. No, I was going to have to find a way out of this mess by myself, but before I had that option I had to study my surroundings, gain the trust of the boys I worked with, and learn the schedules of the guards. I was sixteen years old and had more fire in me than any other young man or boy in that terrible place. It was only a matter of time before I made a plan and acted on it. Until that time, all I had to do with stay alive and keep my nose out of trouble."

**XXXX**

The first few weeks at the Bar Q were horrible, the gang worked from sun up to sun down, three meager meals a day and six water breaks were all the rest they were granted. Although with each barrel passed the quota, the guards allowed another minute at each meal. Joe worked hard, proving himself to the other boys in his gang. Eric and Alex warmed up to Joe next; when they worked they swapped stories of their school days and the trouble they used to get into back at their homes. It was painful to talk about home, and the families they'd been taken from, but for Joe it kept the fire burning within him alive. He wasn't going to lose if he kept his family in his heart.

Two months passed quicker than Joe would have liked, still not used to the darkness of the mine for just the day shift, he was leery of having to spend several days down there, though his body was craving the rest that it offered. When the dreaded morning arrived they were pulled to their feet at first light, quickly given a more meager breakfast of gruel than normal, two lanterns where given to each before they were hustled down into the deepest darkest depths of the mine, to a large cavern. Several barrels of hard tack and biscuits were wheeled in along with several barrels of water, before a barred door was locked behind them trapping the twenty-four boys within the dark damp cavern.

Disoriented and confused Joe looked for Peter and Charlie to enlighten him on what was going to happen, as they'd been through this several times before. It took a moment for Joe's eyes to adjust to the darkness despite the one-lit lantern. At first he didn't see them, but then after looking all around he spied them on the other side embracing another boy, Joe had never seen before. Heading in their general direction, Joe tried not to appear desperate. Spying him Peter waved him over.

"Hey there are you Joe." Peter said clapping him on the back, before motioning to the other boy.

"This is our older brother Adam, he's in the night gang, and he's been here almost as long as Charlie and I. Got himself captured trying to save our sorry asses, now his sorry ass is in here right along with ours."

"The only sorry ass is gonna be yours little brother if you don't start showing me some respect." Adam countered back, playfully smacking his younger brother on the back. Ignoring his older brother Peter continued. "Adam this here is Joe Cartwright, he's the new guy that pissed off Waitsfield that night bout what two months ago. He's a bit strong headed and a little too fast tempered but…I'm thinking he's our ticket out of here. As there aren't many boys stupid enough or with enough guts to stand up to Waitsfield like he did, hell even you, once you lost your gun seemed to lose all your courage too. And you're the oldest one with the misfortune of being here."

"Like I told you brother…**RESPECT **your elders." Turning to Joe, Adam continued, "Cartwright, as in Ben Cartwright and the Ponderosa?"

"As in the same…he's my pa."

"I see, another little rich boy, thinking he's better than everyone else, just cause you're born of money don't mean you get your way all the time. Seems to me Waitsfield made sure you be knowing that. You're lucky he didn't just drop you where you stood, though seeing as how he'd just shelled out good money for your sorry ass I doubt he'd have been stupid enough to do that. You're one lucky son of a bitch!" Adam sneered at Joe.

The punch Joe threw came out of know where, but Joe was going to be damned if his mother was just called a bitch and he didn't retaliate. The force of the blow knocked Adam clear to the ground.

Standing his ground and not backing down, Joe looked towards the floor,

"You arrogant bastard, no one calls my mother a bitch…and just so you know I'm not born of privilege my family had to work for every penny we got. My father taught my brothers and I about a hard days work early on. We do the work we expect our men to be able to do, and then some. You think we're all the same, spoiled brats. I'm sixteen years old and I bet I've broken more horses then you've ever sat in your entire life. So don't be giving me any of that shit, I don't have to take it, not from you or anyone else. I'm gonna get out of here and when I do Waitsfield will get what's coming to him…maybe not right away but soon…"

When Joe stopped his little speech, he found all eyes on him. The rest of the boys all looked a little wide eyed, even Peter and Charlie looked amazed. Turning his back on the group Joe headed towards one of the darkest corners he could find and sat down, silent tears poured down his cheeks. Truth be told he was afraid, but he'd never let it show.

Alex and Eric made their way over to Joe a while later, and sat down on either side of him. Alex was the first to speak,

"You really believe all that Joe, you think Waitsfield will get what's coming?"

"I do, I have to…I don't know how you guys have all made it for so long working and living like this…but I don't plan too. I'll escape, or die trying but I'm not staying here to be treated as a slave, it's not going to happen. I refuse to let it happen."

"Others have tried to get away before…it's not easy…they always came back face down over a horse. Their bodies thrown in the rest of us, while they routed away… Waitsfield is an evil man…he'll stop at nothing. Non of us, like living this way…working like dogs…but we're all scared Joe…we don't want to die either." Eric replied.

"I don't want to die either guys but I'm like I said not going to live this way. I'm gonna figure out a way to get out of here, and when I do…those who are ready to fight are welcome to come with me."

"You know…. Adam was the one every looked up to as he's the oldest…but I have a feeling you're gonna be that someone now, even though you're younger than a lot of the boys here…you are the toughest to come this way in a long time."

"I'm not all that tough really…just stubborn. Foolhardy maybe."

"That maybe Joe, but your stubbornness is the first real sign of hope that we've all seen in a long time. Most arrive with it, but after a day maybe two if they're real tough a week tops, their stubbornness leaves them, and they become like the rest of us, terrified."

"I'm afraid, I'll admit it, I'd be stupid not to be…but as I've said I'm not living like this. Its been two months, I know by now my pa and brothers have been back from the cattle drive and out searching for me…but I also know that there's no way they're going to find me. Hell look at the Taylor's they lost their pa during a search and rescue attempt. He died and Adam ended up in here with his brothers."

It took awhile longer, but in time each and every boy in that cavern made his way over to Joe, Even Peter and Charlie came over abandoning their older brother.

"What's your plan? We're with you…." A boy by the name of Roy Richards questioned.

"If you have a plan Joe Cartwright you're going to need all of us…to execute it. I'm sorry about what I said; I'll work with you if you have a plan." Adam stated walking across the cavern.

"I don't have one yet…but I know what we need to do. Everyone must study his surrounding; learn your schedule inside out and backwards. Learn the guard's schedules, any time a tool breaks see if you're able to spare part of it and hide it. What we really need is a gun but that will wait, no one is to try that unless 100 certain the gun can be obtained without the guards having knowledge of where it went. Next we're down here for a few days at least, so we being a tunnel of some kind, or we pick the lock…we can't leave the mine but we can learn everything there is to know about the inside, air vents, back doors, etc. Then gentlemen we wait, we work hard, and we plan."

**XXXX**

"I looked across the darkened room, at the many faces of boys all ages each looked scared, terrified, yet maybe willing to do what ever it cost them to get away. I didn't have a plan yet but I knew that now once we all worked together, studying everything around us, we'd be able to come up with some kind of plan something that would allow us to escape. I kept to myself the fact that not all of us would make it, someone or several would perish, and so the others would make out…it was inevitable. I scanned the room, trying not to think about the bloodshed that a maneuver like this might cause, it would have been different had it only be a couple but the fact was 24 boys all making it out was highly unlikely. I myself at sixteen was willing to die, so that others could make it out, but I wasn't willing to die unless Waitsfield fell first. I will not die before I find the justice that I crave. Waitsfield will die, before I'm through even if it takes my last breathe to make it happen. That much I promised myself and the other 23 boys I came to call my brothers."

**XXXX**

TBC

My muse for this story is finally back….I will try though not promising anything to have an other chapter out with in a week.

Go review and tell me what you think.


	3. Chapter 3

**Title**: The Gun Slinger

**Author**: Strider4me

**Disclaimer**: Nope don't own them folks. Just barrowing them

**Warnings**: A little dark in places…tiny bit gross and don't forget this story is AU.

**Rating**: This chapter is more M then T

**Feedback**: Yes Please

**Archive**: Nope….must ask before use.

**XXXXX **Joe speaking in the present time, to Roy Coffee. Or events that happen around his story. Might be a little confusing….basically any time story is in first person that is happening. (Re-calling certain emotions/feelings/thoughts)**XXXXX**

**Note:** I'm still in need of a beta reader! Please contact me if you're interested in the job.

**Chapter 3 Misery**

The months passed quickly at the Bar Q ranch. Seasons changed, and tempers grew as the resources of the mine seemed to be drying up. Fear was a constant emotion that radiated through the boys at all times. About twenty four boys in total worked the mine, twelve during the day and another twelve at night. Many had brothers in the opposing shift, and had no way of knowing how their siblings faired. All were terrified at what the mine drying up would mean for them, while it would mean the labor would stop; it was more likely to guarantee their deaths. Even now, while most would gladly die, for the pain to cease, a faint glimmer of hope; from escape, fueled their work. Allowing them to dig just a little bit harder and for just a little bit longer, in hopes that they'd strike something allowing them the allotted time in which they needed to finalize their plans.

It was late March, on a bitter cold afternoon when things changed, some would say for the better; while others said for the worst. A vein of silver had been struck… a very rich vein of silver. Needless to say, Waitsfield demanded that they work harder, and the ore quota for each day grew. While the guards seemed to have backed off a tiny bit, due to their wages actually being paid. The promise of pain, from slacking off grew thicker until it hung like a dense fog in the air. Though bone tired, the boys studied their surroundings and began to learn even the smallest of details, of their schedule; each minute of each hour of each day, until they knew it by heart.

By mid-April, Joe and the others knew the exact moment the guard would return each morning after locking up the night chain gang. The exact moment; down to the second of when the water barrel was given, morning noon and night. When the guards changed and which guards would exchange with them. Learning the pattern of the guards had taken a bit of time, though once they'd figured out the pattern in which they operated, it all clicked. Slowly Joe became the unappoint leader of the pack, as his undeterred show of guts and strength reminded each and every one of them every day that giving into their exhaustion, grief and pain was not an option. They were to be strong for themselves and each other, no matter what costs. Their faith in Joe was sealed one bitter cold morning… when our newest member of the gang, Tyler Blackridge a boy of no more than thirteen crumbled to the ground during morning march, his body weak with fatigue and sickness. The guards being the heartless bastards that they were took to kicking Tyler's prone body, trying to make an example of him. Joe, unable to let the guards beat him to a pulp, pulled out of formation, stepped forward and launched himself at one of the guards, tackling him to the dirt. Joe was able to get in a few solid punches before the remaining guards, stepped forward and pulled him roughly off, twisting his left arm behind his back until the sickening sound of his shoulder popping out of aliment, followed by his screams filled the morning air. Phil Ryan's the guard that Joe had tackled; pulled himself up off the dirt and brushed the dust off his shirt, leering at Joe. Stepping forward, he motioned for the other two guards to hold Joe, and rammed his fist into Joe's gut. The boys were forced to watch as Phil worked Joe over; even after the blackness came to mercifully claim him the hateful guards continued to beat on his broken and bruised body. Once the beating finally ceased, the guards pulled Joe and Tyler towards the corral and tied them both to a fence pole. Their bonds, pulled tight and gagged. Liam Waitsfield watched his men from the deck of the house; a wicked smirk lighting up his face. Stepping forward he headed towards the other boys.

"We will not tolerate such behavior, you will either work or you too shall be beaten. You dare to defy me or my men you will suffer the consequences. I can make your pathetic excuse of a life even more difficult. You will work now, and tonight you and the other gang will bear witness to what happens to trouble making slaves, who are unable to learn their place."

The others; now two workers short were dragged into the mine to begin their day of work. Digging was slow going, for worry filled the minds of the remaining boys…if Joe where to get killed, their dreams of escape would be dashed. Not to mention that the death of their "brother" was simply not something any of them was willing to accept. Pride filtered in among the worry; as for what Joe had done, stopping the guards from beating on Tyler while foolhardy had proved to each and every one of them, as well as chased any lingering doubts from their minds… this Joe Cartwright had to be the strongest, bravest, and maybe even the craziest young man among them. But he was someone they could trust.

**XXXXX**

"Pain was all I knew when I was finally able to return to consciousness, and I took stock of my injuries. My shoulder felt as though someone was digging a hot poker into my flesh and at the same time I was completely unable to feel my left arm. They had tied my arms up behind my head; pulling on my dislocated shoulder almost to the point that I was convinced they were attempting to pull my arm completely off my body. Attempting to take a deep breath around the gag that was tightly wrapped around my face, I hoped to calm the pain but instead was met with excruciating agony across my chest as two if not three of my ribs protested loudly to the movement, signaling that they were at the very least bruised if not broken. Blood I knew slowly dripped from both my nose and down the side of my battered face. My right eye swollen to the point I knew it wasn't going to be able to open. Risking it, I cracked my left eye open….hissing as the pain of light caused nausea to rise up in my throat. Unable to do anything but swallow due to the gag stuffed in my mouth, I willed the nausea down. Misery engulfed me, as I remembered what I had done to find myself in such a state…. But then suddenly I remembered the reason I had done so….Tyler…young Tyler Blackridge.

Tyler was tied to the next fence pole over from me. His face battered as well, blood dripped from his lip. He was a ghostly shade of pale, while his cheeks burned bright with fever. His eyes open staring seemingly at nothing clouded. He was trembling; whether from fear or his fever, I cannot say. But if I had to guess I'd say it was both."

Joe stopped then and took a deep breath, looking around the room. His gaze sought the reassurance he was sure to find in his pa's eyes, and his brother Adam's, before he turned his sight on Roy Coffee the older man though, visibly shaken held his glare.

"Can you tell us what happened next, Joe? Or are you in need of a break?"

Ben ran a hand through his son's curls before stopping on Joe's shoulder giving it a squeeze.

"Why don't we stop, you look like you could use a break son."

"No, if I stop now… I won't get this next part out…I'm good … I can continue Pa."

Taking a deep breath, Joe closed his eyes and began speaking again.

"They left us tied to those fence poles all day; we were ignored by the guards for the most part. Only one of the bastards disturbed us, when he decided that we weren't already cold enough and dumped the usual punishment of a bucket of icy water over our heads. Not that I was surprised at their cruelty. "

**XXXXX**

As the day faded and night approached, the night chain gang was led from the shack we were caged in when we weren't working. And my chain gang was pulled from the mine. All were chained together out in the yard. Waitsfield exited the house a bull whip in his hand.

"Tonight, you learn…. What it is that happens to you when you don't cooperate, when you don't mind your place… when you think of your selves as more then you are…when you forget that you're slaves. MY SLAVES! That one…." Waitsfield pointed his arm at Joe. "has forgotten, he has dared defy me, and my men…. his…and your…. betters! He has dared to stand up to our authority…and for that he will be punished and you all will bear witness, to the punishment of his crimes."

Two guards stepped forward and forcefully removed Joe from his restraints pulling him to his feet. Joe cried out in agony as his dislocated shoulder was jostled and again bound over his head. Blackness danced in his eyes as he was hoisted up by his arms and once more hung from the gate by his wrists. His shirt ripped from his back. Waitsfield moved behind Joe and raised arm, bringing the whip down hard across Joe's shoulders with a resounding crack, before raising his arm back up again and again. Thirty lashes in total, Joe thankfully had passed out from anguish sometime around fifteen.

Joe hung limply from the gate, his body spent. His back a bleeding mass of welts, seemingly not an inch spared, when Waitsfield finally lowered his arm and stepped away. Motioning to Ryan's to cut the tortured slave down. Ryan's took pleasure in slicing the rope, dumping Joe onto the hard cold ground in a heap. Aiming a foot, he kicked Joe soundly in the stomach before dragging him back to the fence post and rebinding him there, his wounded back digging into the rough wood of the post. A bucket of ice cold water was dumped on Joe's head rousing him back to consciousness. Meanwhile two other guards tied Tyler from ropes hanging off the gate, as Joe before him had been.

The guards formed a circle around Tyler's swinging body. Waitsfield handed each a club.

"You don't ever…get in the way of one of my guards disciplining another slave! Discipline is a way of your miserable lives! Accept it! Now for one slave's lack of understanding, another will pay for it." Nodding to his men, Waitsfield stepped away from the gate.

The guards beat Tyler, cheering each other on as the sounds of his bones breaking cracked through the otherwise peaceful night. The beatings continued long after Tyler ceased all movement…

Waitsfield knelt down next to Joe, "This is your fault boy…"

**XXXXX**

"I tried my hardest to be strong, to show those other boys what it meant to be a Cartwright. Yet in doing so I managed to get a boy killed. Waitsfield knew that Tyler's death would never leave me… that I would never forget. I'm haunted to this day… by his screams as those bastards beat him to death in front of all of us. His blood…splashed my face; his cries tore through me like a knife. He was just a kid…only a mere thirteen. And he was killed…why? Because he was sick, because he was sick and unable to work, and because I had to step in…oh god why didn't I just stay out of it? Why did I have to get involved? Had I left well enough alone he would have suffered a beating but he would have survived more than likely…why did I …oh god…why?"

Adam pulled his youngest brother's face against his chest and ran his hand up and down Joe's back trying to comfort his little brother. As Joe sobbed from the memory he had just retold. Ben stood and motioned for Roy to follow.

"Roy, that's enough…. "

"Ben, I'm so sorry… I hate making Joe relive these events, but I need to hear the full story. If Joe has any chance at a life outside of prison we need to know what it was the led up to him becoming a killer, if we can justify the killings, we just might be able to convince a judge that it was all self-defense and Joe can have his life back."

"I know… but he needs a break…he's still healing Roy."

Roy Coffee nodded,

"Ben, go see to your boy… we'll continue this in a little while…I'm assuming Hop Sing has some coffee brewing downstairs?"

"Of course, help yourself Roy… make yourself at home." Ben answered before disappearing back into his youngest son's bedroom.

Joe was still sobbing against Adam's chest, allowing himself to grieve for his "Brother" probably for the first time. Adam had Joe tightly pulled against his chest, and was whispering comforts into Joe's ear. "Shh Joe, you're safe." As Ben re-entered the room, Adam met his father's gaze over his youngest brother's head. The pain in Adam's eyes, Ben was sure matched his own. Settling himself down on Joe's other side; Ben too began rubbing Joe's shoulders. It took some time, but Ben and Adam finally where able to get Joe to calm down enough he was able to talk.

"I think that that is enough for today Joe."

"NO, Pa, get Roy back up here… this all happened a long time ago…though the pain is still fresh in my mind…it isn't by far the hardest thing that happened to me. It's time that this story was told…time someone else other than those of us that lived it knew the truth …"

**XXXXX**

Joe watched as the boys of the chain gangs where lead from the yard, some towards the mine, and others towards the shack. Not an eye was dry, and several showed evidence of having been sick sometime during Waitsfield's demonstration. Lowering his gaze, Joe's eyes landed on Tyler's corpse… which the guards had just left crumpled in a heap at his feet. Tyler's eye's locked forever in a silent agony, remained fixed as though looking right through Joe. An icy hand of guilt clutched Joe's heart…_it was his fault, he had caused this…_

**XXXXX**

"They left me tied to that miserable post, through the night and well into the following day. No food and very little water, only what I had been able to suck out of the gag each time one of those miserable buckets of water was dumped over my head. Guilt at what I had caused ate away at my strength my resolve. Tyler's body still in full view, glared at me blaming me for his death. Both Charlie and Peter tried to catch my gaze as they were led to the mines at morning march, completely unable to look at the boys that I had let down so spectacularly I turned my gaze away. Knowing at least with that small movement I could reassure them that I was still indeed alive. Though, I was sure my life meant very little to them after I had caused another's death

It was during this time, when I had all but given up my hopes for escape, that something truly amazing happened… something… still to this day I believe is the only reason I was able to hold on to my hopes and dreams of escape long enough to get us… all of us that remained, out of there. It was about four when a rider approached the ranch atop a black and white pinto horse, coming in at break neck speed. Ed Nelson, one of the many guards was the rider; he was waiving a telegram frantically in his hand, while he fought to control his pony with his other. My eyes were only for that horse, as I recognized my beloved Cochise. And I'm sure she recognized me, as Nelson dismounted and tossed her reins to another guard, Cochise strained against his hold; pulling towards me. Our reunion was interrupted as two guards exited the house and came towards me, untying me roughly and pulling me to my feet. I was dragged around the back of the house in a direction I had never been before, into what I can only assume was a guest house. A man that I had only caught glimpses of in the past, stepped forward. I remember he tore my pants down, and I fought against them begging anyone a higher power… or whoever was up there listening, not to let this now happen to me as well. The last thing I remember about that room was that man plunging a huge needle into my backside.

When I woke later, I was back in the cage with the boys. It took three days for me to heal up enough I was able to stand let alone work. I learned during that time, that a week had passed since I was pulled from the fence post, but I have no memory of those days. Charlie and Peter told me that they and the others had returned from the mines one night to find me bandaged and sleeping on floor in the middle of the cage; they told how relieved they had been. For they had feared that when I had disappeared from the fence post, that Waitsfield that had had me buried alive in Tyler's grave.

As the months passed, and a year mark came I wondered what was happening with my family. Were they still looking? Had they given up? Would they find me…us…all of us? Would they be like the Taylor's only to die? These thoughts swam through my head all the time. But what started, at that year mark, was hate. I found myself hating my brothers and my father. Because they were living a free life, going about their day, not having to wonder if it was going to be their last. I hated them because I wasn't that far away from home, and yet a year had passed and still they hadn't found me. I know it was an unfair hate. But that didn't stop me at the time… I was hurting inside…something fierce…I needed them…my pa and my brothers…but they weren't there to protect me…instead I found myself, being the one everyone looked to, to tell them that everything was gonna be alright, that we'd get away."

**XXXXX**

Joe and the other boys were nearing a final plan. They worked hard during the day keeping the guards happy, and at night stayed up late working and finalizing their escape. Something had changed. The guards though bastards before, were on an even shorter fuse. Five more boys ended up dead, senseless killings. Things had become dyer… the need to escape escalated.

**XXXXX**

It was Charlie that came to us one night after an exhausting days' work. He had overheard the guards talking… it seemed Byer's was coming early this year. And that we along with the boys on the night shift were due to go into lock down at the end of the week nearly three months ahead of the normal time. This meant two things for us… one…we'd be able to discuss our plan of escape with the other boys, and … two… after our lock down it was normally a scheduled bath day. A day when all of us were chained together and marched over a small hill at the back of the house to a medium sized lake, where we were ordered to strip and bathe. The perfect day for an escape as bath day also was supply day, so there was usually only about eight guards on the place, where as any other day there were nineteen plus Waitsfield. Another bath day would come about two weeks later, but I knew we all had our fingers crossed for the up and coming day. That week was one of the toughest of my life; two more boys had their dreams of escape dashed when a section of the mine collapsed on top of them, the only saving grace… their deaths were quick.

Nerves where on high as the guards lead us down into the darkened depths of the mine, our freedom was so close we could almost taste it. Each of us played our part perfectly, so as not to draw attention to ourselves from the guards. And once the heavy bared door slammed shut and the light of the guard's torches faded, leaving us with the eerie dim glow of our own torches. The brothers… the blood brothers… each sought out their family members to embrace or to mourn…we all mourned the fallen…each and every one of them. Peter…Peter brought everyone to attention… cutting off their sorrow… for our time together was short… and everyone needed to learn our escape plan.

When the guards came to collect us three days later… Our plan was put into motion…it was time… and we were ready.

**XXXXX**

**TBC**


End file.
